


I Want Blood

by theinsaneeraser



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Blood, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Demon Dean Winchester, Human Lucifer, M/M, Pain, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsaneeraser/pseuds/theinsaneeraser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Alistair’s first rules was to make sure they had no way to get comfortable, because if they could, then they could sink into blissful unawareness, and you might as well be slicing up a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) (over on dreamwith) [Card](http://theinsaneeraser.livejournal.com/64568.html), Square: Blades!

There was a distant sound of _drip drip drip_ coming from a leaky faucet somewhere in the background. The room itself was pitch-black save for a flickering florescent light. It was made to splash the room with luminance, only to take it away and drop them into deeper and deeper darkness, and before they had time to adjust it would repeat itself. To a demon though, it was nothing, it didn’t bother them, but for a human… for a human it could be damn disorienting.

To an angel just made human, well, it made their blood pound, rush with fear. He would try to hide it, but Dean would know. Dean would always know how he felt, the true emotions behind the mask. He’d spent so much time getting to know him, watching him, watching his every move as he watched Dean.

He chuckled, tapping the blade against his cheek as he watched him flex his hands, the circulation cut off by how tight he’d done them up. One of Alistair’s first rules was to make sure they had no way to get comfortable, because if they could, then they could sink into blissful unawareness, and you might as well be slicing up a wall. No, you had to keep them grounded, keep them aware of the situation or they’d slither out between your hands like slime.

He waited, watching as the newly-made-human flicked his eyes around the room, wincing against the bright light blasting in his face before squinting in the dark to try and make out shapes. This was one of his favourite parts, watching his subject squirm with anticipation. He knew what was coming, what was going to happen, Dean had already explained it in painful detail, it was all about the when now, when would Dean walk through that door and start.

A few more quickened heartbeats and Dean finally walked through the door.

A flash of light and He’d be able to see him in the doorway, another flash of light and he’s be a quarter of the way to the bed. A third flash of light and he’d be standing off to the side, sliding his fingers over the blades and pliers and chisels and other fun goodies. A fourth flash of light and he’d be turning to stare at him, eyes flooded black, smirk on his face. By the fifth flash of light he’d be right next to the bed, bending over so their noses almost touched.

“Hello Lucifer.”

He felt Lucifer’s flinch, heard his heart beat faster before he fought to slow it down to something that resembled a normal rhythm. He heard the sharp intake of breath and saw the widening of the eyes. He licked his lips and stood back up, moving out of his line of sight as another flash illuminated his back. He grabbed a knife, this one slightly dulled and jagged, meant to draw pain and cut the skin from the muscle messily.

Dean turned around and flicked the light, causing it to stop flickering and cast the room in bright luminance. Lucifer flinched away from it, sweat starting to bead on his brow and hands, which were tied above his head, wrists crossed. Any movement would cause the rope to rub against skin, causing it to eventually rub raw and then bleed. This position also allowed the rope around his neck to restrict his movement. If he turned his head away, it would pull on the rope, choking him temporarily.

“Comfortable?” Dean asked and waved the blade in the air, watching Lucifer’s eyes follow it before locking onto his.

This was yet another tactic, talk to them, make them talk back, make them focus on you and what you were doing. Waving the blade around added the fear. He could suddenly drop it down and slice at skin, or he could just tempt him with it. The fear of the hit was always more effective then the hit itself… just less fun and Dean? Dean was here to have lots of fun.

Dean moved so he was straddling Lucifer’s hips, placing the blade between his teeth and ripping open Lucifer’s shirt. He trailed his fingers over the flesh and relished in the shiver it earned him. This was untouched skin, unmarred and beautiful; the perfect canvass. If there was something Alistair and Dean could agree on completely, it was that having the perfect canvas changed everything.

“You are not Dean.” Lucifer spoke swiftly and authoritative and Dean couldn’t help but Laugh as he places the blade against Lucifer’s chest.

“You know as well as I do that this is me. This is not just some cheap imitation demon wearing my meat suite. This is the real deal. I saw you catching a glance at me as I was tortured, and then started torturing. I could tell the difference between a demon and an angel-playing-demon. You had this glint in your eyes, something full of light, demons have no light.” He pressed the blade into Lucifer’s flesh, chuckling at the intake of breath and bitten-off cry as he dragged it down. “No, that gets carved out of them long before their eyes go black.”

Dean hooked the blade, following the shape of the ribs, carving the skin and licking away the blood that bubbled up. He wanted to see his work clearly, see the ribs out-lined in red as Lucifer bucked up under him, a soft whimper escaping his lips. He was an angel, a cold angel who had been rendered human and warm once more. That was why the room’s temperature had been lowered, not enough to numb his body, but enough for Lucifer to remember what Dean could do to him.

He also wasn’t used to all the nerves and pain that a human could go through and Dean was laying on pain most humans only dreaded feeling.

“How does it feel Lucifer, to be like one of us? To be like one of the things you disgust, to feel the bite of our blade, the pain of our flesh?” he whispered and dug the blade in deeper. “Can you feel him? Can you feel death; can you feel him creeping up on you with his cold, icy finger’s that feel oh-so-much like the pit?” He pulled the blade out and licked it, cutting his own tongue in the process. “Does it feel good Lucifer, does it make you feel better about yourself, knowing how weak humans are?”

Dean starts work on the other side of his chest, watching the grey steal dig into pale flesh, cutting into it, causing it to pull apart and curl as blood bubbled and then flowed from it.

“Stop.” Lucifer gasped and Dean just chuckled, wiggling a finger.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You know that doesn’t work Lucifer. How many times did I scream for Alistair to stop, how many times did I call out for Sammy, for my mother, for my father without any relief. Thirty years it was cutting and slicing and taunting and ripping and peeling, and then healing and repeating.” He chuckled and licked up some of the blood before pressing his lips against Lucifer’s, forcing them open – it wasn’t hard, being human and the added blood loss made him weak – letting the blood trickle into his mouth as his tongue swiped around every nook an crevasse.

When Dean pulled back Lucifer panted, lips splashed with his own blood.

“Stop, Dean.” He spoke, but his voice trembled with pain and fear, Dean could smell the fear there.

“I made a promise to myself when I picked up Alistair’s blade, did you know that.” He looked at the blood-covered knife in the light before swinging his leg to the side, sliding off of Lucifer with ease. “I promised myself that I would never be weak again, never let anyone boss me around; I was my own boss again, and that’s just how things were going to go.” He chuckled. “I also promised myself I would repay the fucker that made me end up here, and at first I thought it was dear old Yellow-eyes, but no. Turns out you’re the big baddy behind the strings.” Dean snorted. “Not so big and bad now, are you?”

Dean ran his finger’s and picked up a surgical knife, cutting his finger with it before moving back to straddling Lucifer’s hips again. “These are some of my favourite knifes. They are so sharp and cut so easily, it’s like getting a paper cut. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does but it’s so clean a cut, that it causes so much more pain. The same goes for these.”

“Dean…” Lucifer tried but Dean dug the blade into his cheek and cut down, drawing a startled cry. “Stop!” But Dean didn’t he moved up, sliding the blade along Lucifer’s arms, creating clean, shallow cuts. He smirked at the second cry it earned him. “Dean, stop!” He demanded, which only made Dean cut in deeper, breaking into the muscle and slicing it.

The extra work needed for healing was well worth it for the scream it earned him. He repeated the action again, and then one Lucifer’s other arm, each scream getting more and more beautiful, like music to his ears. He smirked and started a cheery hum, a habit he’d picked up from Alistair as he continued to carve Lucifer’s vulnerable flesh.

By the time he was done, Lucifer was barely conscious with rivers of blood trailing down his skin, painting the sheets red. Satisfied, he placed a hand on Lucifer’s chest, digging his fingers into the wound and causing one last whimper before he healed the pain. He smiled and patted Lucifer’s cheek, leaning over and framing his face with his hands, eyes turning back to their normal green color as he smiled down at the ex-angel.

“Shhh, it’s alright now.” He cooed. “But tomorrow, tomorrow we work on your legs and lower abs.” he chuckled and kissed Lucifer, something soft and chase before kissing his forehead. “Now get some sleep, you have an early start tomorrow.” And he got off him, flicking the light so it flicked once more. He cleaned up his blades and put them back, arranging them in order before leaving the room and shutting it, but not before a soft sound reached his ears.

“I’m sorry Dean.”


End file.
